


Nakia

by Dinadette



Category: Homeland
Genre: Captivity, Feminization, M/M, Stockholm Syndrome, Suggestive Themes, Terrorism, عربي | Arabic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-27
Updated: 2019-12-27
Packaged: 2021-02-18 07:50:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 333
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21990751
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dinadette/pseuds/Dinadette
Summary: Nakia, he called him, and he didn't even protest (much).
Relationships: Nicholas Brody/Abu Nazir
Kudos: 10





	Nakia

**Author's Note:**

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“Nakia” he said his name was, when they asked him. They thought they misunderstood him, confused and dazed and exhausted. He could have said Nicholas, after all.

The Marine could hardly stand on his two feet, after all, they told themselves. He should have introduced himself as Brody, or Nick, or sergeant or anything else but that though. 

He screamed when they rid him of his ratty blanket, or whatever it was that he was wrapped in. He tried to shield his face from them but it passed, too, over time.

By the time they brought him home - because this was home, not that hellhole of a country - he was almost himself, speaking a barely accented English and strutting proud in his military uniform, almost a little too showy. Too much.

He conversed with a translator, the older, conservative man slightly ill at ease and finally asking who taught him such Arabic. Refined, literary, yet consistently… wrong. His mouth twitched, a strong hand pushing a non existing strand behind his ear as his mane had been cut short.  
“I doubt it is wrong,” he said curtly.

“Words have a… gender,” the translator said. “Like people” One of those things he couldn’t get used to in America. “You… consistently refer to yourself as the wrong one. It happens, as English doesn’t have this feature” But.

Abu Nazir taught him everything. Taught him to speak, to read, to pray. He was certainly fully male, more aggressively so than the terrorist, Brody told himself. Yet he accepted the name. The veil. The dress - local, that was all. Daesh leaders were degenerates who married boys in a burka, he heard. Nazir was no such man.

“What does it mean, ‘nakia’?” He asked even though he knew not to.  
“Pure. Clean. Faithful,” the translator replied, his eyes trained far, far, far away. Brody sneered because he had been none of this for quite long, and the various ways Abu Nazir had pronounced it never let him guess so.


End file.
